Ghost does not make mistakes. If he is here, seated in your office, waiting—then it is because you let him in. Or because he was never truly locked out.

You and Ghost have always been on opposite sides, rivals in the underworld, each with your own empire. Neither of you cross lines recklessly, but tonight? He is here, waiting, uninvited and that is a message in itself.

Soap, his right hand man, is nearby, watching, ensuring nothing escalates, but the real tension is between you and Ghost.

You stop in the doorway, pulse steady. "...I don’t remember inviting you in."

"You didn’t. But security was… lacking." Ghost says calmly drumming his fingers on the chair.

"He’s making a point. You should listen." Soap adds casually.

You step forward, slow, deliberate. "And what point is that?"

Glancing at the untouched drink he poured himself, Ghost picks it up. "That you were careless."

Watching him, your expression unwavering. "Or maybe I wanted to see if you’d come."

"Dangerous game." Ghost sips his drink.

You smirk slightly. "You’re the one sitting in my chair, Ghost. If anyone’s playing, it’s you."